


New Life

by Laylah



Category: Magna Carta: Tears of Blood
Genre: Drabble Sequence, Hero Worship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-19
Updated: 2009-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-03 10:18:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Azel can pinpoint the exact day -- the exact moment -- when it happens, when he goes from quietly fascinated by Calintz to hopelessly out-of-breath obsessed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Life

Fleeting

He wakes to the realization that everything hurts, that he feels sick and lost and raw, his throat ragged from screaming and from breathing smoke. He wonders why he isn't dead.

Then he feels somebody's arms slide under him, lifting him, and he panics, because what if the Yason have come back to carry him off? What could they want with him?

But the person holding him is gentle, cradling him close, and the voice that says, "I've found a survivor," is kind. Azel tries to open his eyes, but everything is a blur, and then he blacks out again.

 

Aware

The next time he wakes, the pain is fading. There's a man's voice, low and smooth, chanting the keys to a talisman, and when he reaches the activation syllable at the end, a wave of cool energy flows over Azel, chasing away a fever he hadn't known he had.

"Thank you," is the first thing he can find to say, when he opens his eyes and swallows hard a few times to make his throat work again.

The man who's been tending to him smiles, beautiful and celestial. "You're awake," he says gently.

Azel nods. He's glad to be alive.

 

Balance

His savior's name is Calintz. Azel says the name to himself, quietly, just a soft whisper of air across his lips. He watches when Calintz practices martial forms in the morning, before the company moves out for the day's march.

The style that Calintz follows is graceful and restrained, slow sweeping motions that part the air in front of him in time with his breath. His eyes are focused on a point somewhere in the distance, his face slack and calm. No matter how complex the steps, or how stylized the form becomes, his movements are elegant, his balance perfect.

 

Shift

"What are you going to do now?" Calintz asks, when they reach Lester.

Azel looks away, trying to gather his courage. "I." He stops. "Will you let me join the Tears of Blood?"

Calintz looks over at him, thoughtful, considering. "It's not an easy life."

"I know," Azel says. "But the Yason took my old one, and." He almost loses the thought entirely, because Calintz is so beautiful with that flare of anger in his eyes. "I don't want to let them do that again."

Something changes in Calintz's expression, and Azel knows the answer is going to be _Yes_.

 

Again

"Come on," Calintz says gently, offering him a hand, "get up."

Azel takes it, staggering as he tries to stand. "It's no good," he says. His legs are trembling. "I'm sorry. I'm wasting your time."

"No, you're not," Calintz says, and doesn't let go. "It takes time to get good, that's all. Everyone struggles at the beginning." With his other hand, he offers the practice sword that Azel just dropped.

"Really?" Azel asks. His hand feels raw, closing around the hilt; he's broken his blisters open again.

"Really." Calintz lets him go, and steps back, raising his sword. "Now -- again."

 

Few

It feels like he's only just learned to use his sword well enough to fight the geckra near headquarters, and now they're marching off to an actual battle with the Yason. Azel tries to tell himself it'll be fine.

"Nervous?" Calintz asks, walking beside him.

Azel wants to lie, but he's sure it would be obvious. "Yeah," he admits.

"That's normal, you know," Calintz says. "I've heard it said that a mercenary's life is a long stretch of boredom punctuated by a few moments of sheer terror."

Somehow, his wry smile makes Azel think this might still be all right.

 

Vertigo

Azel can pinpoint the exact day -- the exact moment -- when it happens, when he goes from quietly fascinated by Calintz to hopelessly out-of-breath obsessed. They're in battle, like they seem to be far too often anymore, and the last of the Yason fighters has rushed Calintz, but he doesn't falter, doesn't hesitate, just times his parry _perfectly_, so the heavy black iron blade slides away harmlessly and he has this moment free to counter, quick and clean as the wind, and then he lands, graceful and light on his feet, and Azel is suddenly dizzy with helpless admiration.

 

Crave

"Always a pleasure, Captain," says the girl behind the counter at the inn, batting her lashes, and Azel shifts uncomfortably.

"Everywhere we go," Chris says from beside Azel, shaking his head. "Kind of makes you jealous, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, kind of," Azel agrees weakly, blushing. He's pretty sure Chris will assume that it's Calintz he's jealous of; Chris is so hung up on girls it sometimes seems like he can't think about anything else. But it's not the girl that Azel wants, not when Calintz is there, turning back to them, easy and confident, his eyes warm.

"Shall we go?"

 

Constant

Some days it gets so he can barely think about anything else. He's a mercenary, and a survivor of the war, but he's also a teenage boy, and sometimes Azel's body just takes over without him. More days than he'd like to admit, despite how tired he is all the time, despite how hard they all work.

And when he gets a few moments alone, at last, it's always, _always_ Calintz on his mind, as he fumbles with the lacings of his tunic and his trousers, as he takes himself in hand and rocks his hips and shudders with need.

Fate

"How are you doing?" Calintz asks, over dinner one evening.

Azel, bone-tired and starving, still manages to dredge up a smile from somewhere. "I think I'm getting used to it." He takes a bite of the roast they're having tonight, bolts it down. Food tastes better than it used to, he thinks; hunger makes him that much more grateful for everything. "I mean, it's not what I'd have chosen for myself." He stops. "Well. I mean. I _did_. It's -- I never would have thought I'd wind up here." He looks up, meets Calintz's eyes. "But I'm glad I did."

 

Wait

He's tired of waiting until he's old enough, so when Chris offers to buy him a drink, Azel says yes. And then a second time. And then a third.

And then it's late and his head is spinning -- Chris is off somewhere with some girl, Haren left in disgust hours ago, and it's Calintz who slides an arm around Azel's waist to help him stumble home.

And at the door Azel leans in, presses his mouth to Calintz's clumsily.

"Wait," Calintz says, pulling back, and Azel is about to protest when he goes on, "at least until you're sober, okay?"

 

Inverse

In the morning, Azel feels like he's been turned inside-out, and his head is pounding. He's hungry and he doesn't want to eat, both at once, and the sound of somebody knocking on the door to his room is _much_ too loud. But he rolls out of bed anyway, because it might be important, and undoes the bolt.

He's still squinting against the brightness outside when Calintz speaks the keys for a talisman, and relief unknots his muscles so he's completely unprepared when Calintz leans in and kisses him.

"Now," Calintz suggests, "invite me in."

Azel can only nod.

 

Breath

Calintz, of course, is better at getting his clothes off than Azel is himself, his hands deft and sure with the fastenings even while his mouth is warm and wet against Azel's throat. It's too ridiculously appropriate, and the breath that Azel draws in sharply when Calintz bites him turns into stuttering laughter.

"Ticklish?" Calintz asks, his hands stilling.

"No," Azel says, shaking his head, blushing but it's not _bad_, for once, "no, just -- you're so good at this and I should have expected that and," he kisses Calintz to stop himself talking for a minute. "And I want to."

 

Rhythm

"Like this," Calintz murmurs, easing Azel into his lap, his hands gentle and firm, and Azel feels like he's all knees and elbows, off balance, almost falling before he catches himself with his hands on Calintz's shoulders and he's never going to be able to do this, except they _are_ doing it, because Calintz has already slicked him with oil and opened him slowly and now he's _pushing_ and Azel thinks he might die right here from the stretch and heat and strangeness of it, only then Calintz starts to thrust, steady and even, and just like that it's _good_.

Transparent

He must have fallen asleep afterward, because Azel wakes up with late morning sun lighting the room, and his face crushed against Calintz's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he says, trying to sit up, still a little shaky, starting to feel all the places where he's sticky or sore or both.

"It's fine," Calintz says, reaching out a hand to steady him. Calintz's hair has come undone, falling in his face, and the slant of light catches his eyes so that they shine warm and clear like amber. "How are you feeling?"

His own smile catches Azel by surprise. "Good, I -- _good_."


End file.
